Maid to the Mafia (+18)

“We’ll get caught,” she whispered, breathless.

Duke didn’t stop. He got wilder, as if the risk itself excited him. Her eyes almost rolled back. He was good. Too good. She couldn’t stop herself. Her nails dug into his back as he shoved deeper.

“Ugh,” she groaned, hand shaking against the sink. “Fuck…”

Duke’s eyes never left her face. He grabbed her ankle and pushed it higher, opening her wider.

The marble edge of the sink bit into her hips with every thrust. Cold stone against flushed skin. The mirror above them fogged in uneven patches from their breath. Cassie’s reflection looked ruined already.

Cheeks flushed dark, lipstick smeared, the thin straps of the black dress Duke had chosen for her hanging off one shoulder. The matching lace of the lingerie he had fastened on her earlier was shoved aside, useless now.

He drove into her hard enough that the sound of skin meeting skin filled the small bathroom. Wet. Sharp. She felt every thick inch of him stretch her, fill her, drag against that spot that made her legs tremble. Her free hand scrambled for purchase on the polished counter. The faucet was cold under her palm. She gripped it anyway.

“Quiet,” he ordered, voice low and rough. But he didn’t slow. If anything he pushed deeper, grinding against her when he bottomed out so she had to bite down on a cry.

The risk sat heavy in the air. Music from the ballroom thumped faintly through the walls. Voices rose and fell outside in the hallway.

Any second someone could walk in. Duke seemed to feed on that possibility. His grip on her thigh tightened. He hiked her leg higher until her knee nearly touched her chest, opening her completely. The new angle made her vision spark white at the edges.

“Duke—”

He cut her off with another hard thrust. “Shh.”

She did. She had no choice. Her body clenched around him without permission, greedy and slick. The scent of sex mixed with the expensive soap in the dispenser and the faint perfume still clinging to her throat. Every inhale was full of him. His cologne, the clean sweat on his neck, the raw heat pouring off his skin.

He leaned over her, chest pressed to her back, and reached around to find her clit with two fingers. The contact was precise, almost cruel in how perfectly he knew what she needed. Circles. Pressure. Exactly the rhythm that made her hips jerk back to meet him.

“You’re dripping on my cock,” he said against her ear. “All for this. For the chance someone might hear.”

Cassie shook her head, but the denial died when he pinched lightly and thrust at the same time. A broken sound tore out of her. She turned her face into her own shoulder to muffle it.

He didn’t give her time to recover. His free hand slid up her front, cupped one breast through the thin fabric of the dress, then tugged the neckline down until the lace of the bra gave way. Cool air hit her nipple a second before his fingers closed on it. Tug. Roll. Another sharp thrust that made the sink rattle.

Her orgasm built fast and mean. It started low in her belly and climbed, stealing her breath. She tried to warn him, tried to push back from the edge, but Duke felt it the moment her walls fluttered. He changed the angle again, shorter strokes that stayed deep and rubbed that same place over and over.

“Come,” he said.

She broke. The pleasure hit hard enough that her knees buckled. Only his hold kept her upright. She came around him in tight, pulsing waves, mouth open on a silent scream. Wetness spilled down her thighs. He never stopped moving, fucking her through it.

When the worst of it passed he pulled almost all the way out, then slammed back in to the hilt. Once. Twice. On the third stroke he buried himself completely and held there. Heat flooded her in thick pulses.

Duke stayed inside her, breathing hard against the side of her neck. His hand still held her ankle high. The mirror showed them both wrecked. His eyes were dark, almost black. A muscle jumped in his jaw.

Footsteps approached outside and a polite knock sounded against the door.

“Occupied,” Duke called, voice steady. He didn’t pull out.

Cassie froze. Panic cut through the haze. She tried to wriggle free. He simply shifted his grip, lifted her completely off the floor, and carried her two steps into the nearest stall while still buried to the root. Her back hit the cool metal wall of the stall. He kicked the door shut with his heel and locked it with one hand.

The person outside tried the handle of the main bathroom door.

Duke’s mouth found the hinge of her jaw. He began to move again. Slow this time. Deep. The kind of deliberate grind that made every nerve light up.

“Don’t make a sound,” he murmured.

Cassie bit her lip hard enough to taste copper. The stranger outside cleared their throat. Water ran in the sink just beyond the stall. Soap. Paper towels. Ordinary sounds that somehow made the thick slide of Duke’s cock inside her feel louder.

He fucked her in long, controlled strokes. Each one dragged against the sensitive place he had already worked raw. Fresh wetness slicked the way for him.

The person outside hummed under their breath. A soft, tuneless sound. Duke chose that moment to roll his hips in a circle that forced a tiny, helpless noise from Cassie’s throat.

He covered her mouth with his palm immediately. “Shh.”

She trembled. Her nails dug into the expensive fabric of his suit jacket. He still wore the damn thing. Shirt open at the collar, trousers shoved down just enough. The contrast made everything worse. She was bare and open and full of him while he looked almost composed.

Outside, the water shut off. Footsteps moved toward the door.

Duke didn’t stop. He kept the same relentless pace, deep and slow, as if they had all the time in the world. His free hand slid between them again and found her clit. Two fingers pressed and rubbed in time with his thrusts.

Cassie’s eyes watered. The second orgasm gathered faster than the first. She shook her head against his hand. He only pressed harder, both against her mouth and against that swollen bud.

The outer door opened and closed. Silence returned.

Duke removed his hand from her mouth but left his fingers working between her legs.

“Again,” he said.

She came with a broken whimper she couldn’t fully swallow. Her body clamped down on him so tight he hissed. He kept fucking her through it, slower now, milking every flutter until she was limp and shaking in his arms.

Only then did he still. He stayed buried inside her, forehead resting against the cool metal wall beside her head. His breath warmed the side of her face.

When a few seconds had already ticked by and he did not make any move, she tried to wriggle out of him. His hand stopped her short.

“We should head back now. Your girlfriend might start looking for you.”

Duke just scoffed against her shoulder. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Right. She’s your fiancée.”

Only then did Duke lift his face to look at her, a ghost of a smile on his face. “Are you jealous?”

Cassie swallowed. The question landed like a slap.

“I’m not jealous,” she said. The words came out thinner than she wanted. “I’m practical. People saw us leave together. Someone is going to notice you’re gone.”

Duke’s smile widened a fraction.

“People notice what I want them to notice,” he said. His voice stayed low, almost conversational, even as he pulled back an inch and pushed forward again. The movement was lazy now, almost idle, but it still forced her up onto her toes. “And right now I want you quiet and full of me.”